His Scent
by Marauder's Inn
Summary: Based off of a Tumblr post I added to/ cross-posted on AO3, contains M/M
1. Chapter 1

It's stronger,

His scent durning sex.

It invades Geralt's senses and he drinks it up, revels in it, bathes in it. Holds him tighter as he fucks into Jaskier slowly, deeply. He basks in his moans, the way his voice hiccups around the Witcher's name.

He grips a calf, thigh, his hip-

His arm, his shoulder, cards his fingers through damp locks, slick with sweat; he grips Jaskier's hand, stretching his lanky body out across the forest floor.

And, he's buried deep in the bard.

Soaking in his scent, imprinting it on himself, and in turn imprinting his scent into Jaskier, because he can't get enough, will never, won't ever...

He's obsessed.

Geralt bites and marks his body, feral with his scent, as he wraps his body around the bard, encasing him with his arms and savoring him with every, single, breath.


	2. Brothel

The scent of sex and smoke and lust and ale clouded the air, almost suffocating the Witcher, invading all his senses, as he walked into the bar and brothel. He found an empty booth at the back of the building, away from the lecherous men and women pawing at passing whores as they drink their fill of cheap mead. His head was beginning to pound unpleasantly with an oncoming headache.

He waved one of the barmaids over.

"What can I be gettin' you, Witcher?" She asked, fisting her hands on her hips.

"Ale, and a lot of it." He replied as he looked about the brothel, seeing as anyone would catch his fancy. Despite being a mutant, one without supposed feelings, he still had needs to be filled.

"Riight, anything else you be wantin'?" She pressed, leaning forward a bit and pushing her breast up with her arm. Geralt snorted softly.

"I'll let you know." He rumbled. The barmaid winked at him and bustled off to fetch his drink. Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the sounds around him, just for a moments peace.

"_A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing.  
His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow."_

He opened his eyes as music filled the air, golden eyes cutting through the bodies to find the source of the sweet voice. A young man sat on the bar, a lute in hand as he plucked at the strings; his body was donned with a lavish attire, made of silk-that was cut to show off the smooth, flat plains of his belly, where thin gold chains hung, wrapped around the thin material of his torso, accentuating his lean body; a heavy looking sapphire weighed down one chain in the middle of his abdomen, the jewel dipping into his navel in a way that set Geralt's teeth on edge. Hip bones peaked from loose pants, present a tantalizing preview for those that wished to bed him; the pants cuffed before his delicate looking ankles. His arms were bare, save for the golden bands around them. From his ears hung elegant lapis jewels and a gold collar was wrapped around his delicate throat, and from the collar hung more thin chains, chains that snaked down to the ones at his chest. Thick kohl decorated each eye, bringing an otherworldly quality to the bard's sharp blue orbs.

The man glanced about tha room and stopped at Geralt, holding his gaze for a long moment, before he grinned and continued his tale.

"_When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling,_  
_And asked if to work in her forge he would go. __Rum, rum, rum. Rum, rum, rum._  
_In and out. In and out. Ho!"_

The crowd jeered and sung the jig with the man as he stepped down onto the floor, smiling as he continued to sing the jaunty tune, captivating the Witcher with his voice.

_"I will," said the smith, and they went off together,_  
_Along to the young damsel's forge they did go._  
_They stripped to go to it, 'twas hot work and hot weather._  
_They kindled a fire and she soon made him blow."_

He danced around the people as they laughed and played along with him, enjoying themselves. Geralt watched with something akin to curiosity; this man held his interest.

"That's Dandelion." The barmaid said, setting down his beer. "Good singer and an even better lay, if you're into that sort of thing. Works right here in the brothel, if you'd like to bed him for the night."

Geralt grunted and looked back at 'Dandelion'.

"How long has he been here?"

"Almost a year, sings mostly, but he takes on clients when the money's low and the owner obliges 'im, mostly cause Dandelion brings in more customers-"

"Therefore, more money." Geralt finished. She smiled and nodded.

"I knew you'd be a smart one. His clients say he's a generous lover, kind and soft. Some men, and women, go there whole lives without that sort of treatment, so when they come here, they fulfill more than just the need for fucking a hole."

He made a noncommittal hum and picked up the pitcher of ale again.

_"Red hot grew his iron, as both did desire,_  
_And he was too wise not to strike while 'twas so._  
_Said she, "What I get I get out of the fire,_  
_So prithee, strike home and redouble the blow."_

_Six times did his iron, by vigorous heating,_  
_Grow soft in her forge in a minute or so,_  
_But as often was hardened, still beating and beating,_  
_But the more it was softened, it hardened more slow."_

Before Geralt could fully register, the bard was standing next to him, patrons in front, still dancing and cheering and singing. He looked at the bard with a neutral expression and the pretty brunette just smiled and winked at him as he continued his song. Geralt snorted softly, going unheard under the sound of the bard's voice. He finished his pitcher and signaled the barmaid for another. She nodded, smirking at him as Dandelion leaned against his chair as he warbled out the last note of the song. Geralt just sighed, resigned to the ridiculousness of the bard.

The crowd applauded and tossed coins onto the Witcher's table for Dandelion, who bowed graciously and picked them up, before sitting down across from Geralt. The barmaid set down two pitcher of ale before busying herself with another customer.

They sat in silence for a moment, drinking each other in.

"You know, I never expected to see you here after such a long time," Dandelion said, eyes glittering with mixed emotions. "_Geralt._" He took a drink of his ale and smirked at the Witcher.

Geralt looked at him with his gold eyes, lion's eyes, and hummed deep in his throat, moving closer to the bard until he could press his lips against the bard's ear.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it," Geralt murmured, drinking in the familiar scent of smoke and rose and now polished gold. "_Jaskier_."


End file.
